Crayons and Koolaid
by Idonquixote
Summary: One-shot. Six-year-old Edgar knows he has the best mother in the whole wide world. A glimpse into their life.


**This archive makes me feel bad because it's so small. Seriously, this was one of the best musicals I've ever seen. So here's something to boost the archive a bit! There are some OCs in here, but they're really not that important (most of them anyway).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bat Boy: The Musical**

* * *

Edgar checks the window one more time before returning to the sofa. He counts the crayons scattered on the coffee table and puts them back in their box- Mom would be mad at him for leaving them out. Good children don't leave their things lying around. He smiles, proud of himself.

Edgar checks the clock. She should be home soon. Humming quietly to himself, he goes back to watching his aunt sleep. She has a strange green mask on her face and lemons (?) on her eyes. He giggles, small fangs showing.

The doorbell rings and he sprints toward the sound as Aunt Mary mumbles something about pasta. The doorknob is an inch higher than him, but that doesn't matter. He unlocks it and grins.

His mother grins back. "There's my little guy."

She walks in yawning, purse dangling carelessly on her arm, and bun on the verge of coming apart. "Auntie, I'm home!" she calls in her chippy voice.

Edgar follows her like a bobbing puppy, grabbing at the hem of her skirt. Mom puts a hand on his head and rubs it. He giggles.

She undoes the bun and tosses the purse on the counter. "You hungry, Edgar?"

"Yes!"

Mom takes him into the kitchen and scoops him up. She sets him on a chair too high for his feet to touch the ground before going to the fridge. It opens and in a second, he sees the pouch come out, dark red liquid. She pours it into a small bowl.

"Is that koolaid?" he asks.

She looks at him oddly. "No... why?"

"The TV said it was koolaid."

She mutters something. "TV makes people stupid. No, it's not koolaid."

"Then what is it?"

"I'll tell you later, alright?" "Okay." She puts it in the microwave and waits. While they wait, Edgar spews on about his day- he drew pictures and watched TV and tried to read a book and played tag with Aunt Mary. Beep.

Mom takes the bowl of "koolaid" and puts it on the table. She gives him a spoon just in case, but Edgar almost never uses the spoon. He prefers the koolaid to go through his teeth. Mom sits by him and pats his head.

A picture of them is stuck to the fridge- his fifth birthday photo. Mom is looking at it. "You know, Edgar, everyone says you have my eyes."

"I like your eyes. They're pretty."

She laughs, loose and warm against his sharp little ears.

"You're back already?" Aunt Mary asks sleepily, stepping into the kitchen, the mask gone from her face and bathrobe wrinkled.

"Edgar alright today?"

"You owe me one. I'm too old for tag." Aunt Mary pours herself a glass of orange juice before taking her place at the table. "How'd it go with that John boy?" Mom bites her lip.

"He's nice. Really nice. He's a doctor too. And you know how I feel about those."

"Maybe he's different."

"I just think... it's too soon, Auntie. I'm still-" "Okay, okay, I'll drop it."

Edgar finishes lapping up his bowl of red. It runs down his throat, warm and quenching. His stomach feels good, very good. "Mommy, who's John?"

"Just a man who eats where I work."

"Is he like daddy?"

Mom sucks in a breath. "No, no, he's nothing like daddy."

* * *

At night she tucks him in. Edgar has the best mother in the whole wide world. He's positive. She smooths the sheets and fluffs his pillow.

"I don't feel so well today, little guy. Can we talk?" she asks in that soft tone.

He curls against her. "Okay." It's an hour past his bedtime but Mom doesn't seem to take notice. She sits by him, planting little kisses on his face.

"Sometimes I feel stupid, Edgar. Really, really stupid."

She caresses his face. "Your dad was smart, you know. Really, really smart."

He knows she doesn't like to talk about Dad. Frantically, his mind searches for ways to veer away from the topic. Mom almost always cried when she talked about him.

"Sometimes I think of things. Listen, you're six already. Edgar, Auntie's talked about this before- you know you look different, don't you?"

"I'm like batman."

She laughs, a quiet lovely sound. "Bat boy. Well, it's going to be tough out there. But just know that- know that I love you, okay? Mommy's stupid and she does stupid things but no matter what, you're always number one for her. Got that?"

She looks at him again, the look that says he's the only one in her world. She's beautiful, eyes shining, skin creamy in the dim light, hair falling down in a soft halo.

"Got it."

* * *

They sit together, the three of them in the parlor, each holding a cone of ice cream. Edgar is next to his mother, quietly lapping at the vanilla scoop, careful not to let it drip, or let his fangs show. Mom looks at him worriedly.

"John, are you sure he can handle it?"

"It's ice cream. He'll be fine," the man on her other side says. He is a boyish man with light freckles on his face and combed copper hair.

The ice cream is good- cold like the red stuff Mom gives him in the summer and sweet like the sugar she sometimes adds. He can't compare vanilla to anything but he doesn't dislike it. Mom warned him about John. Mom had told him that if there was anything he didn't like about John, he should say it immediately. He couldn't find anything yet.

John reaches out and puts an arm around Mom's shoulder. She brushes him away. "No, not yet."

He looks disappointed. "Sorry. So, want to tell me about this little guy?" He winks at Edgar and the boy smiles.

Mom looks at him scrutinizingly, as if she's surprised that he's so nice. Edgar knows Mom is especially worried about how people see him- she once smacked a woman for snapping a photo of him. But John wasn't here to hurt them, was he?

"I told you everything already."

"Not... everything," he laughs. She flushes.

"Mr. John," Edgar says, "do you know what the red stuff is?"

"Strawberry syrup?" John stares down at him kindly. He shakes his head and Mom looks away.

"Mom feeds it to me. She says it's not koolaid. But it's really warm, and sometimes she gives it to me cold." Mom's fists clench, as if daring John to say something back.

"It's the thing that's inside our bodies," John explains matter-of-factly, "we can't live without it. Including you."

Edgar doesn't really understand. Mom's fists relax. "I think I get it, I think," the little boy guesses. John chuckles.

A family of four passes them by, the children staring at Edgar the whole while. Mom pulls him closer to her. She frowns at the passing mother.

* * *

Ben once asked him why he didn't have a father. Ben is his friend, a pudgy little boy from down the block. Edgar wonders if John will be his new father. Then he could tell Ben he had one now.

Ben's parents are (what does Aunt Mary call them?) "hippies." They invited Edgar's family to dinner on Friday. He looks forward to it. Ben says he's strange for liking that red stuff- Ben once tried it and said it tasted bad._ Ben's_ the weird one.

Edgar ponders how to tell Ben about John. Mom never got a divorce with Dad. At least, that's what he thought.

"Does your dad look like you?" Ben had asked.

He forgot about the question until now. He needs to ask Mom soon.

* * *

"Their cooking was terrible," Aunt Mary complains as they enter their home. "Dang hippies."

"Auntie, I thought they were great people." Mom takes Edgar's hand in her own. "Right, bat boy?"

"Yeah!"

"My opinion doesn't even amount to a toddler's. Yeesh." "Auntie, come on." "Eh, just messing with ya."

Mom turns on the light and plops down on the couch. Aunt Mary goes to the bathroom. And Edgar finds himself crawling onto his mother's lap.

Her hand touches the remote but doesn't press down. She stares blankly ahead.

"Mommy."

"Yeah?"

"Do I look like daddy?"

"I thought you liked looking like me."

"No, I mean- is- is daddy weird like me?"

She snaps. "You are not weird, Edgar! Who told you that?" "B- Ben." "Well, Ben's fat and stupid. He's lucky you're so nice to him." She calms down a bit. "I- I'll talk to his mom about that. Just don't say that again."

The tears well up.

"Edgar?"

His breathing speeds up. He didn't mean to make her mad.

"Ed?"

His nose is stuffy.

"Bat boy?"

She touches him and the tears fall. He hiccups. "Oh, Edgar," Mom says softly, "what's wrong? Ben's just an idiot." She pats his back.

"You're mad," he squeaks.

"No, no, not at you." She mutters something to herself. "Mommy does stupid things, remember? I'm not mad at you, Edgar." She hugs him, pressing his wet face against her shoulder. "You're not weird. You're better than normal. Ben wasn't being mean, just stupid. Like me."

He doesn't reply. "Forgive me, buddy?"

He nods.

* * *

"You're a vampire!" Ben says excitedly from the other end of the line.

"Really?" Edgar asks into the phone.

"Yeah! You can like fly and stuff!"

"I don't think so."

"Edgar! Get off the phone!" Aunt Mary hollers from the couch. "I need to use it!"

"Ben, I have to go."

"Edgar, that's what we should be for halloween. Vampires!"

"I thought you wanted to be Robin."

"No! You wanted to be Batman. I don't wanna be Robin."

"Edgar!" Aunt Mary shouts again.

"Bye Ben."

"Bye Edgar."

He hangs up and puts the phone back where it belongs. He knows he's not a vampire because the sun doesn't do anything to him and he grows. He can't fly or turn into a bat or hypnotize people. He only eats the red stuff. Vampires suck blood.

He hears Aunt Mary's impatient voice. She's talking to Mom.

"Hey, relax. It's not til tomorrow."

A pause.

"What? New clothes? You're buying clothes right now?"

Another pause.

"Him again? I hate him."

Pause. "I'm not racist!" Pause. "Okay, okay, I'll tuck Edgar in."

The phone is back in place. Aunt Mary shouts at him again. "Edgar! Shower time!"

Aunt Mary doesn's scrub gently like Mom. Edgar frowns. His aunt is going to take a sponge and scrub his skin raw.

* * *

Reverend Hightower laughs heartily, inviting Edgar on his lap. The boy sits and shifts. Hightower's large hands fold over his own.

"It's his first time," Mom says.

Edgar nods. He remembers Reverend Hightower; he always visits Mom during Christmas. This is the first time he meets the man in Church.

"You saying your prayers, Edgar?" he asks.

"Every day!"

"Did you enjoy today?"

"Yes."

"Is your mom going to take you here again?" Hightower casts a glance at Mom.

"The others won't... react?" she asks nervously.

"They didn't seem to care very much today." He puts a hand on Edgar's shoulder. "I'm here, if that's any comfort." An aged smile.

"Thank you, reverend."

Mom plucks him from Hightower's lap. "Go find Auntie," she tells him with a gentle shove. Edgar knows there's no point in arguing. He walks off, slow enough to hear bits of Mom's low voice.

"Reverend, I never told him... Edgar... my parents..."

"Look inside... he's your son... leave the past behind," the reverend's deep voice replies.

Edgar is out of earshot.

* * *

She misses her parents. Grandpa and Grandma, two people Edgar would never know, just like Daddy. Sometimes Mom tells him good stories about Grandpa and Grandma- their camping trips, family dinners, movie nights. Grandpa was really smart, like Daddy, and Grandma was really kind. Grandma would love him, she said.

Sometimes Edgar wonders about them, but it never lasts too long. For now, the only people in his world are Mom, Aunt Mary, and John. But John is standing in their doorway, talking quietly and looking sad.

Edgar is crouched behind the sofa. Mom wouldn't want him to see this.

"You really can't move on?" John asks.

Mom shakes her head. "Not now, at least. I'm sorry... I really did tell you everything, this time. He's not an... an ex and you know it now. I'm sorry, John. I like you, I like you a lot."

John walks toward her. She puts her head on his shoulder. "He must have-" his voice strains, "he must have really been something, huh?"

Mom's body shakes. It means she's crying. Edgar feels guilty for watching.

"He was a lot of things... gentle, kind." She half laughed, half sobbed. "He was strange, sad, funny, intelligent."

John looks heart-broken. That's the word. Edgar recognizes the expression from Aunt Mary's soap operas.

"Oh my- I'm sorry!" She wipes her face as he wraps an arm around her. "I thought I was over- but I'm not- almost seven years and I'm not- I still love him. I'm sorry, I still love him."

"Then I'll wait." John bends down and keeps his head on _her_ shoulder now. "I'll wait for a while longer."

* * *

Meredith Parker. Thomas Parker. Mary Withers. Edgar scribbles the names on a piece of construction paper- he's making a surprise for Mom. He doesn't know if his drawing is good enough for her. It doesn't look very accurate to him, but Mom never complains.

Edgar Parker. He scratches his head. He takes a different crayon to write the last name. That should work.

Satisfied with his handiwork, he leaves the table and goes into the living room. Mom is sitting on the couch, in Aunt Mary's bathrobe, dark bags under her swollen eyes. He can tell she didn't sleep last night.

"Mommy."

"Yeah, little guy?" Even her voice sounds stuffy. But Mom is still the most beautiful person he's ever seen. He walks up toward her and holds out the drawing. "I made this for you."

She looks at it with hooded eyes. They widen.

"Here's Grandpa." He points at the figure. "And Grandma. She has curly hair, like the pictures." He smiles.

Then he points at another figure. He worked the hardest on this figure. "This is you." **Shelley Parker**.

He points at the figure next to her. **Edgar**. "This is Daddy. I made him look like me. See, I gave him pointy ears."

His finger trails down another line and settles on a differently colored label. **Edgar Parker**. Above it is a smaller figure. "And that's me."

She's silent, staring at the thing. "I made us a family tree." Mom doesn't talk.

"Did I get Daddy wrong?" He panics. "He doesn't look like me?"

Mom shakes her head, eyes brimming with fresh tears. "No, he's perfect! He's perfect, Edgar!" She grabs him and throws her arms around him. He can barely breathe against her chest. "He's perfect!" she sobs.

"You're perfect, Edgar," she tells him, "you're the perfect son!"

"You're the perfect mom," he says.

"We're hanging this up." She holds the drawing in the air and grins wildly, tears streaming freely. "We'll put this thing up! Everyone's on it, mom, dad, my Edgar, our Edgar, Auntie!" She spins him in her arms.

"We're gonna be okay, little guy! We're gonna be okay!"

He doesn't quite know what that means. It doesn't matter. Mom is happy. He is happy. She covers his face with kisses and he doesn't do anything except giggle in her arms.

"Your dad would love it! I swear!" She whoops in delight. "And here mommy was, stupid and feeling sorry for herself. I have you, Edgar, and you have me. And we're going to be okay because I have you! Oh man, that doesn't even make sense!"

Sunlight streams in, outlining Mom's laughing, sobbing face and her messy, smooth hair. And Edgar knows that whatever Mom just said makes perfect sense.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and I hope it was worth it! (Reviews are always welcome, of course) **

**Maybe the twist was too obvious, but I genuinely think this is the happiest possible ending for canon Bat Boy. Now that "Mom's" identity is revealed, I apologize for implied-pairing her with an OC. I see her as about 24 or so at this point, working as a waitress. Aunt Mary is actually a novelist, but I thought it didn't really add to the plot- that's just how she gets her income, haha. **

**So now that Shelley's stepped out of the shadow a bit, she might be heading back to school. Or not. She might start seeing John again. Or not. It's all up to you!**


End file.
